SWtOR Shorts
by RepublicGurl
Summary: A series of drabbles and one-shots featuring my in-game SWtOR characters. Prompts are taken from the official online thread. All genres included, as well as regular appearances of in-game canon characters.
1. Culture Shock

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note: **I'm pretty confident I am not the only person to have done this... but all well. The more the merrier, right? Anywho, these little drabbles/one-shots are from the official game website, where we have a _Fanfiction Short Stories _thread. Basically the OP of the thread posts a prompt every Friday, and the voluntary writers fulfil the prompts with their in-game characters. The stories can be crack, humor, parodies, serious, romantic... the who enchilada.

So... I thought I would post them here as well as on that site.

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_**:Culture Shock: **_

_(Featuring my Jedi Knight, Eleya Shevani- Miraluka)_

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One of the earliest things Leya remembers being told by her crèche Masters when she was younger is that the galaxy is full of different Beings with backgrounds, stories and lives, and that the Jedi Temple itself is similar in that regard. She took their words for it, not really caring too much about the fundamental dynamics of a star civilization mixed with numerous species different than her own.

Now, she is beginning to appreciate growing up amongst her clan-mates and other residents of the Temple. There, the atmosphere was always warm, comfortable and welcoming- even if she did manage to irk many Masters' ire for her abilities to finding multiple ways of sneaking out of the Temple.

Her first mission with her current Master is at a cantina, of all places. A mixing pot of diversity; languages, Force signatures and emotions meshing together to the point that Leya has to take a moment by the cantina's entrance to take a deep breath and anchor herself in the Force.

A Twi'lek passes by her close enough to brush against her side, and sends her a leer. Even without Leya's emphatic abilities she can feel his derision from a mile away.

_This is almost overwhelming, _Leya thinks as she presses herself closer to the entrance threshold to make room for the other patrons entering and exiting the cantina. Behind her, her Master is finishing up a quick holo-call in the open corridor, before cutting the link and making his way over to the girl.

His Force signature is bright and warm; something Leya quickly decides to focus on to drum out the other distractions straining her senses.

"Nervous?" her Master, Jon Do, asks. Leya turns her face in his direction and can make out the outline of his full lips curving into a half-smile. "Don't worry- you'll do fine. At least, there is no way you could do worse than I did on _my _first official mission."

Leya's eyebrows lift higher above her eye covering.

"… was it really awful?" she inquires, feeling a little reassurance that she isn't the only one to have felt anxious for a mission. She can feel Master Do's amusement like a tickle against her skin.

"I would tell you, but I don't want to give you nightmares," Master Do says, and for all intents and purposes he sounds serious.

But Leya knows better and chuckles anyway. Her shoulders relax and when Master Do leads them deeper into the cantina, she follows dutifully.

The galaxy- and this cantina –was mixed with so many different species and Beings with different backgrounds and histories to be sure. And Leya knows she'd be dishonest if she tried to fool herself into believing she wasn't a bit unsure of herself.

One thing she _was _sure of, though, was that even if she was to be put in amongst a multitude of others, if she stayed centered in herself she couldn't ever be lost. As Leya walks closely behind her Master and casts her Sight out to see more patrons, she smiles to herself.

Maybe her first mission won't be so bad after all.

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**END.**

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**NOTE: **This is just the start... As more prompts arise more characters will be introduced. :)


	2. Allies

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note: **Here's another one. This came to me while I was playing the game and my Jedi Knight and Kira were in a cantina together. I just couldn't let this get away from me.

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_**:Allies: **_

_(Featuring my Jedi Knight, Eleya Shevani- Miraluka- and her Crew)_

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The place is buzzing with a multitude of voices, whirls, clicking sounds and other methods of communications available to the current customers. Sitting in the far back of the rather shabby restaurant, with only a dull, flickering light casted above them and an old fan that no longer works, Leya sits closest to the wall in the booth with her former Padawan, Kira, sitting next to her. On the end of the booth table Scourge sits with the dignified air of a Sith Lord trying to associate peacefully with Republicans, (and not doing too bad of a job though the dark aura about him makes any passersby scoot past him with sudden urgency in their steps), with Lt. Rusk and Doc sitting across the two Jedi on the other side of the table.

"…why did we choose this place again?" Kira asks, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she picks up the menu. She stares at it in horror, the choices ranging from obscene to downright revolting. "Are we _that_ desperate for a night out together?"

Doc has his left elbow on the table, his body half leaned over, with his right hand by his napkin and tapping his fingers impatiently. He peers up at Kira, his eyes partially shadowed by his sinfully long black lashes.

His full lips split into a grin that most would definitely classify as sensual.

Kira merely raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the display.

"What does it matter?" he replies with a roll of his smoky hazel eyes. "Food's food, eh?" His eyes look Kira up and down in an exaggerated show of trying to check her out. "'sides, I'm sure no matter what you eat it won't mess up your figure, sweetheart."

Kira gives a mocking smile, while making a point of unhooking her lightsabre and placing it on the table in front of Doc's elbow. Doc barely hides a wince and tries to nonchalantly pull his arm away from the weapon, acting unruffled.

"Keep it up and I'll make sure you're the main course," Kira snarks back.

Instead of recoiling at the undercurrent of steel in the young woman's voice, though, Doc just gives a leering grin and settles back against the booth. He crosses his arms over his muscular chest and clicks his teeth.

"How you two manage to keep your hands off of each other, I will never know," Scourge says sarcastically in his cultured Imperial accent, his vivid red eyes moving back and forth between the medic and Jedi.

Husk gives a brisk nod, shifting in his seat, but has nothing to add verbally other than an indecipherable grunt.

Leya just turns her face slightly towards the wall, trying to hide a smile at her friends' antics. Her dark hair is currently in a ponytail, the strands of her eye-covering tied to the back of her head, but nonetheless her facial expression can easily give her away if she isn't careful.

_This will never get old, _she thinks, nibbling her lower lip as she finally turns to face Kira. She places her hands on the table, linking her fingers together as she regards her former Padawan through her Force Sight.

"This place may not be the most reputable," Leya tries to console Kira, keeping her voice measured though she is fighting the urge to laugh. "However, regardless of that fact, I doubt they will take too kindly to pulling out weapons in plain view with the intent to use them."

"_Thank you," _Doc implores with a smile at Leya, but his smile falters when Leya continues smoothly, a hint of teasing in her voice, "…No matter how justified the reason for pulling your weapon out might be."

Doc pouts.

"Hey! Whose side are you on anyway?!" He asks shrilly.

"No one in particular," Leya assures him, just as Kira gives him a smug look. "We're all friends here- even if some of us have to be reminded of that."

Kira and Doc both have the good graces to look contrite, while Husk lets out another grunt and Scourge's left eye twitches at the word "friends".

As _if._

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**END.**

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**NOTE: **Oh, there's so much more coming soon...


	3. Confessions

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note: **I wanted to try my hand at another of my in-game characters. I figure I'll just rotate through the prompts so each of them can have equal screen time.

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_**:Confessions: **_

_(Featuring my Smuggler; Dean Stryder. And though game mechanics only allow for certain races, for my head-canon purposes he is an EPicanthix. )_

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"You ever thought about growing up to be something other than a Captain?" Corso asked lightly, leaning his head back to take another swig of his drink. It was a rather slow evening, and now that Dean had berthed his ship in the port, the others had taken off almost immediately to the nearest cantina.

Corso had left with them, but returned soon afterwards with drinks and food to share between him and the Captain who had declined the offer to join the rest. Said food was now demolished, the wrappers and containers lying open on the caf table.

Slouched down next to Corso in the lounge couch Risha had swindled from a friend awhile back, with his long legs perched up on the small table, Dean's brow furrowed. He absently crossed his left leg over his right, and settled the chilled glass bottle of his beverage on his thigh as he pondered a response to his companion and second in command.

"Not really, I suppose," he offered after a moment of silence. He took a sip of his drink, and then turned his head to gaze at Corso, his golden near-Human eyes glinting under the overhead artificial lighting. His sculpted jaw was slightly darkened by the onset of an early five-o'clock shadow, and when he reached up to lazily scratch an itch the scratching sound was a little loud in the otherwise silent compartment.

He'd been told more than once before that if he ever gave up the life of smuggling he could always make a solid career on his looks and physique alone. While it was incredibly tempting, Dean preferred his current avenue of credit-making to modeling and plastering his face on HoloNet channels; he had enemies in both high and low places.

It would be incredibly stupid of him if he gave them an easier way to find him.

Corso pulled one leg up to curl under him and turned his body slightly in his seat to face his Captain more comfortably. He cocked his head slightly in question.

"Whaddya mean?" he asked curiously, his drink now laying limp in his grip, forgotten.

"Well," Dean started, leaning his head back onto the couch, mashing his already wayward and relentlessly untidy, thick dark hair against the seat cushion. "As a kid growin' up in the Empire,"

At this, Corso's eyes widen but he remained silent. He never knew the Captain wasn't a native Republic citizen. Even though they have spent quite the time together ever since Ord Mantell, there was still so much about Dean that Corso just didn't know.

Not that the Captain was fond of just spouting off anything about his past to begin with.

"Most of my days were full of making sure I had enough food to eat, and a place to lay my head at night. Not only was I only a near-Human in a rather Human superior society, I was also an orphan."

For only a moment, Dean fell silent and his eyes looked off into something faraway and ghostly. When Corso continued to stare at him, silently waiting for him to continue, Dean gave a rather soft yet, indignant snort before continuing.

"I guess you could say that after spending so many nights alone outside, I grew an affinity for seeing the stars overhead. It became sort of like a method of escape. I thought only about being able to be free- from my situations, my problems… Hell, free from my _life. _Once I escaped, I never looked back."

Dean gave Corso a half-grin, though the usual mirth and spirit that shone in his eyes were slightly clouded.

"I never thought of being a Captain until I stumbled upon the job. Before that, I was content doing things my way and having to answer to nobody."

Corso nodded, feeling another level of respect rising in him for his Captain.

"And now?" he asked, just for jest.

This time the devil-may-cry smile that twisted Dean's lips was completely genuine, and Corso found himself smiling along, too. His Captain's infectious charm was like gravity itself- wherever it formed, those around it usually fell into its pull.

It was exceedingly hard to pull away from, but Corso knew that he didn't mind the weight of it at all.

"Well, _now," _Dean said, the usual laughter lacing his voice and making the atmosphere seem ten times brighter within seconds. "Now, I'm a _Captain, _I control my situations, my problems, and my life. I have to answer to nobody, and I make _credits _to boot. The last thing on my mind is being stuck somewhere, starving, with nowhere to go."

"Must be nice," Corso agrees absently.

The look of pure contentment that settled over Dean's face did something funny to Corso's chest.

"It's as close to Heaven as I'll ever get," Dean assured his friend.

"You and me, both." Corso muttered causing Dean to chuckle in agreement.

The two men stared at each other silently, that level of communication they'd developed over the time spent working together seeming to pass between them without hindrance. After another moment, Corso grinned and lifted his bottle.

Dean lifted his as well.

When they collided their drinks together in silent toast, the sound rang out through the compartment; loud and clear.

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**END.**

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**NOTE: **I just _couldn't _resist having some manly bonding time between my Smuggler and Corso. I think that, if SGRAs were in-game, they could make something workable. Until then, that's what fanfiction is for. :P


	4. Rite of Passage

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note: **I was originally super nervous to post this, because I in my head I have this intricate setup of my Sith Warrior's past that would be a believable excuse as to why she eventually turns fully Light Side...

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_**:Rite of Passage: **_

_(Introducing my Sith Warrior, Esiri Vae- Sith Pureblood)_

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The first time Esiri Vae kills someone, she is eight Standard years old; terrified, hovering over the injured body of her Human mother and screaming until her throat burns.

She stares up imploringly at the Imperial soldier, tears brimming her startling orange-gold eyes as his large blaster rifle focuses on her prone mother's body. Her mother, lying weakly on the floor on her side, flinches away from the weapon.

Esiri crawls closer to her mom, reaching out to run her small fingers over the side of Lydia Vae's face in an attempt to calm her. Almost instinctively her mother turns her face towards her daughter's touch, pressing the side of her face deeper into the child's small palm.

Sometimes at night when her mother appeared too weary to sleep, Esiri would crawl in beside her and hold her close. Her mother would then be able to fall asleep eventually if Esiri caressed her face- as if reassured her daughter was still with her.

Lydia turns her warm brown eyes to her daughter's and gives her a shaky smile as if to say, _Don't cry, Little Esi. Have no tears and be brave._

Esiri would take comfort in that, if not for a thin trickle of blood slipping from between her mother's lips, making Esi's chest churn wildly as if something dark and ugly is trying to get out. She would take comfort in her mother's presence if the other Imperial Soldiers and the tall man in black were not crowding around them so threateningly in their own home.

Esi turns her gaze to them, narrowing her eyes in anger, hurt and confusion all rolled into one. Why must these strangers be so cruel to them?

Esiri has never done anything to these strangers- she and her mother are good people who mind their own business. They are simple farmers and keep to themselves whenever they find a new planet to call home. Sure they move around a lot; but that's because Esiri's skin is vibrant red and she can sometimes do things no one else she knows can.

Esi's mom has never _told _the Youngling she's the reason why they never stay in one place too long- but Esi is sometimes able to sense things that people like to keep quiet. She has noticed the looks others give her whenever they land at crowded starship ports, before her mother rushes her away to the promise of safe solitude and blessed seclusion.

Or the way fear and an aching sadness would cloud her mom's face whenever Esiri tries to impress her with the strange tricks she can do; like moving objects without _touching _them, or sometimes even making the native animals do as she asks.

This time, they managed to stay almost a full year on this small, nearly isolated farming colony before everything went sour. A distant neighbor reported them to the authorities, and before Lydia could pack her and her daughter's meager belongings to leave the planet, the Imperial military had come for them.

Now, her sweet mother is hurt, and the tall, scary man in black is speaking strange words about Esiri rightfully belonging to an Emperor and being taken to live at some old, ancient school that helps special children like her.

As if she will _ever _choose to willingly leave her mom and go with these mean people.

She doesn't understand really everything he is explaining- she is too busy cradling her mother's head gently in her lap and running her fingers over and over her mother's soft, satin skin to pay close attention. Lydia's hair- the same silky inky black that Esiri has inherited, spills over onto the floor like a cascade, and Esi clamps her lips tightly close to hold back a sob.

Wishing with all her might that the Imperials would leave and she and her mom can be alone again, she tries to focus on the feel of her mom's soothing skin against her fingers instead of the man's cruel voice.

Her mother's skin is rapidly turning clammy and cold under her touch.

It scares Esi, and she finds breathing is a little hard to do now, and her ears are becoming filled with a rushing sound in her panic.

No- her mother cannot leave her here! She'd be _alone _with these strangers, and they are so scary and mean.

"You only prolong the inevitable, child," the tall man sneers, his voice cold as a slab of ice. His eyes are a blood-rimmed yellow despite him being a Human like her mom, and his fair skin flirts with the pale, sickly color of death itself.

Even from the distance between them, Esiri can _feel _there is something different about this man compared to the Imperial soldiers next to him, and even to her mother. There is a _presence_ about him that seems to fill up the room, even though she cannot see it, and the presence is heavy, dark and makes her skin crawl.

She flinches when he speaks, and he gives her a predatory smile as if knowing she can sense that strangeness about him and she is trying to shy away from it.

"You belong with us. It is time you put this behind you- the Emperor's will is to _never _be questioned. Your mother was insane enough to try- if you wish to follow her example I assure you it will end the same. " The man warns when he holds his hand out to Esi and she stubbornly shakes her head at him.

"I don't care about some stinkin' Emperor!" Esiri says boldly, even though inside she is quaking with fear and uncertainty. The man's face darkens and _something _brushes against Esi's neck like an invisible hand threatening to squeeze.

A whimper escapes the child's throat, before she haunches in on herself and bends forward over her mother's upper body. Her arms cradle her mother a little more tightly, as if to shield her mother's prone form with her petite one.

Let them hurt her or take her away; after all they are here because she's different and her skin is red- but her mother hasn't done anything! Her mother is the nicest person in the galaxy, and when she smiles Esi knows the day is going to be good.

Why won't these strangers have goodness in them like her mom?

"Me and my mom didn't do nothing to anyone! You go away from here and leave us alone!" Esi tries to make her words come out in a demand, but they only rush out of her throat in a desperate plea.

The man laughs, before waving his hand breezily at her. The Imperial Officer next to him takes it as some kind of sign, because he moves forward and reaches down to grab her mom's shoulder harshly.

At Lydia's weak cry, something deep and fierce inside Esiri explodes before the child knows what is happening. A powerful, invisible force tears the Imperial officer brutally away from her mother, sending him flying and crashing into the far wall.

He hits the wall so hard at an awkward angle that a loud _snap _fills the air, and when his body crumbles to the floor it doesn't move again. The place where he hit the wall is cracked heavily from his body's impact.

Esi stares, horror filling her eyes.

Did she… did _she _do that?

"Enough of this," the man snarls, reaching forward to grip Esi's hair in his vice grip. With a savage yank, he pulls the little girl to her stumbling feet, and away from her dying mother. The movement causes Lydia's head to fall onto the floor hard, and Esi sobs at the spike of pain that races down her neck and sparks in her skull at the man's unforgivable grasp of her hair.

She reaches up to try and pull his fingers open and free her- he rewards pulling her head back and lowering his head to her fear shrouded face.

"What you just did, child, is just a taste of the power you will learn to control," he sneers. Tears slip down Esi's face freely, and he eyes them with contempt.

A moment later, a gleeful smile full of malice splits his lips and Esi fights the urge to wet herself at the sight.

"Consider this your right of passage into the Sith Order," he tells her, moving forward to press his cold, hard lips softly against her cheek, mocking a kiss of affection.

Revulsion rolls Esi's stomach and she is briefly glad her stomach is empty. Otherwise she might have lost her meal right then and there at the man's feet.

He pulls back, and Esi turns her eyes in the direction of her mother just in time to see one of the other Imperial Officer's raise a vibroknife.

"N-no… please," Esi begs, looking up at the man. He regards her with a look of indifference. "I'll go with you- I'll do whatever you want. _Please,_" her voice is small and heavy with her tears.

They cannot _do _this. That's her mom!

"Just… let's leave, okay?" Esi tries to bargain, lowering her hands and stepping closer to her captor. She glances at her mother, who is regarding her with impossibly kind eyes even as her execution draws closer. She turns back to the man and reaches up to place her small hand on his cloaked arm.

Staring into his eyes, she tries to bargain for her mother's life, even if the thought of leaving with these people make her knees weak and her heart ache with fear.

"Let's go right now- I'll stay at this school and your Emperor will be happy. I won't fight or anything and won't try to run. Right? Can we go now? P-please?"

The man stares slightly at her for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Hope flares in Esi's chest-

-only to quickly turn to black horror as he says coldly to the Officer, "Kill her."

Esi turns, and even though her vision swims under the tears, it cannot erase the sight of blood and her mother's brown eyes turning dark and cold with death.

A scream tears from Esi's throat, and if feels as if she will be screaming forever.

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**END.**

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**NOTE: **I _adore _my Sith Warrior character, and I'll work more on her character and story for future prompts. I want to do her such justice, ya know?


	5. What's In A Name

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note: **Here's another one for Eleya. Out of all my in-game characters, (though I love them all), Eleya is the one whom I have fleshed out further than the rest. I just love her character. (My SW, however, is a _close _second.)

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_**:What's In A Name: **_

_(Featuring Eleya Shevani-Miraluka- and Kira Carsen)_

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"I personally think my name isn't that rare," Kira says with a nonchalant shrug. She was sitting back leisurely on Leya's bed, her legs stretched out before her and crossed at the ankles. She had taken off her boots upon entering her former Master's personal quarters, leaving them at the foot of the bed.

Leya had only smiled impishly at her sudden, impulsive arrival from her position on her meditation area on the other side of the room.

Kira glances at Leya, and though the Miraluka has no eyes to help convey her emotions, the slight quirk of her lips and her raised eyebrows more than do the trick.

"Really?" Leya replies, folding her hands into her lap, and sitting a bit straighter on her mat. Having been in meditation before her friend came to join her, she is wearing a simple beige tunic top and brown pants; her feet are bare and her long mahogany hair- which she usually keeps pinned up to keep out of her face when out in public –flows freely around her face and down past her shoulders in deep waves.

Kira can only think, with some affection, that the usually proper- even if a bit more relaxed and friendlier than most –Jedi Knight looks downright _adorable. _

It is rare for her or any of the other crew members to see the Miraluka in any setting other than a public one or discussing Serious Business when aboard the _Defender. _Seeing her now, seemingly unguarded and comfortable in this level of familiarity is… nice.

"I have to admit that you are the only Kira I know," Leya says after a moment, drawing Kira out of her silent musings. "And I have met quite a lot of people- it isn't as common as you might think."

Kira shook her head and wrinkled her nose.

"Oh, I guarantee you," she says with a smirk. "You head to any alley spot or rundown town in the Empire and every other person you run into would be 'Kira' or some other version thereof."

The young Jedi Knight wrinkles her nose.

"I swear, it's like the Sith have no originality and so as soon as they have a child they name her- or even _him –_Kira." For a moment, Kira's eyes darken before she takes a slight breath and forces a smile. "And I speak for my own parents when I say that, too."

Kira doesn't miss the way Leya's lips press tightly close at those words, though nothing else about the Miraluka gives her away.

"Yes, well if there is one good thing I can say about your parents- it is that they obviously underestimated you when they left you on Korriban." Leya says, and Kira feels a spark of warmth at the undercurrent of firm steel lacing her usually cordial tones. "They may have given you an ordinary name but you are certainly not any definition of 'ordinary' that I can think of."

Feeling her cheeks heat up slightly at the praise, Kira squirms a little. The blatant honesty and simplicity in which Leya is speaking is making her slightly embarrassed.

"How so?" Kira chuckles, not entirely sure if she wants to break the heartfelt solemnity of the moment or not. She isn't used to receiving such compliments (sans one sleazy Doctor of course), and it's humbling- even if a bit unsettling –to hear someone she respects give her one.

"If I had to give the name 'Kira' a meaning," Leya muses aloud, lifting her left hand to stoke her chin in a thoughtful manner. "I would make it mean, 'unquenchable spirit', or 'fierce and determined'. Because they most definitely describe you, I think."

Kira has to actual swallow twice in order to remove the sudden block in her throat. For a moment she blinks rapidly, fearing her eyes might tear up.

_C'mon, Carson. Don't start the waterworks now, _Kira thinks, lowering her eyes to her lap while she tries to get over her sudden moment of girliness.

"I hardly think it could mean that," Kira says softly. A moment later a weak smile finds her lips. "How about, maybe, it could mean 'stubborn and thickheaded'?" she finds it within herself to joke, her eyes still focused on her lap.

Her averted eyes are the reason why she is suddenly taken by surprise when the bed suddenly dips from added weight.

Looking up and turning her head to the right, Kira has just enough time to scoot over as Leya slips down onto the bed, next to her. The Miraluka rests her head back on the head board and stretches her long legs out alongside Kira's, crossing her legs at the ankles as well.

"I suppose that suits you as well," Leya says, and the affection and obvious teasing in her tone only makes Kira smile in response. Leya is close enough that Kira can feel the slightly older woman's body heat, and it is the ultimate comfort. Even though they had been merely Padawan and Master not so long ago, sitting here like this was…

It is almost like she's enjoying a relaxing talk with a best friend or even a… sister.

_Don't get mushy, _Kira thinks with a soft grin. Still, there is a definite warmth in her chest at the closeness she can feel and express in front of the woman who has come to mean so much to her without feeling shamed in doing so.

Leya leans over to bump her shoulder into Kira's and an infectious smile twists her lips as Kira laughs and bumps her back.

"Hey! You aren't supposed to agree with me!" She insists, just as a knock bangs on the door. It slides open right after the knock, just as Kira is saying, "Kira is a highly respectable name!"

Standing in the doorway is none other than Doc, having come to collect Kira for their usual evening game of cards. His dark eyebrow lifts at seeing the two young women comfortably sharing the bed.

A grin forms on his lips, and both women internally groan good-naturedly.

"My, my. Don't let me stop you," Doc purrs, leaning against the threshold's frame. "I enjoy a good bonding session between beautiful women as much as the next guy. Mind if I join?"

Kira snorts, thinking Leya will just politely send him away. Instead, she starts at Leya's words.

"By all means, Doc." An undercurrent of laughter is present in her voice, and Kira immediately knows her former Master is up to something. "The more, the merrier."

Doc starts over, his obvious intent involving sitting next to Kira, if his smug smile is anything to go by.

But when Leya speaks up again, his steps come to a halt. Her voice is completely innocent with just the right amount of curiosity to make her sound heartfelt and genuine.

"We were just discussing the meaning of our names. And you can understand how curious I am about what _your _name means, I am sure. Could you tell us?"

Kira immediately wants to give Leya a medal for being completely amazing.

_Why in the world is she a Jedi? _Kira muses, glancing over at Leya's neutral face. _This woman should be an actress!_

Doc's eyes widen comically, and Kira almost swears that Doc's forehead starts sweating immediately.

Kira turns to Leya in question, wanting to play her role as well.

"You know, now that you mention it…" Kira turns to face Doc instead. "What _is _your real name?"

Doc takes a stumbling step back, and Kira _almost _feels some sympathy for the man.

Almost.

"I… er…" He suddenly looks back the way he came in. "What? You need help, Teeseven?!" Doc calls, though both women know he's only making an excuse to escape the gravity of his situation.

He looks apologetically at Kira and Leya.

"Sorry, ladies- duty calls," he says.

Leya bows her head in a mock show of regret.

"Of course," she says with a put-upon sigh. "When duty calls, who are we to ignore it?"

Doc nods nervously, before he bolts from the room.

After the door slides close behind him, there is a full minute of silence between Leya and Kira. Then Leya places her hand lightly on Kira's arm just as Kira leans into Leya's side.

The laughter explodes from both of them, and it is all they can do to grip each other to keep from falling off of the bed.

When Kira raises her hand, Leya doesn't even have to look before she is lifting her free one and slapping it with a hardy _smack_.

"That was _awesome,_" Kira declares once their laughter subsides minutes later. She is still leaning into Leya, and the Miraluka's hand is still warm and comforting on her arm.

Leya nods next to her.

"Yes. Yes it was," she agrees wholeheartedly.

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**NOTE: **I love the Jedi Knight's companions, and it is far too easy to see the different dynamics between each of them and my JK.


	6. Turning Point

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note: **And it's now back to Esiri. :P This prompt was for something that took place in a game character's life or experience that helped lead them down the path they were on. Seeing as I fully intend to expand on this further down the road (as well with my other in-game characters), I definitely consider this a turning point. At least, for _my _Sith Warrior.

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_**:Turning Point: **_

_(Featuring Esiri Vae-Pureblood- and Vette. Cameo by Malavai Quinn)_

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"You will be still, or this will hurt you more than it will help you," Malavai Quinn's voice is curt and crisp, his accent hardening his words rather than softening them.

When Vette glances at his face, twisted in concentration as he applies the antiseptic to her arm, she tries not to recoil at the calm façade he wears. The military man is, without a doubt, obscenely attractive physically- that the Twi'lek has no problem admitting to herself.

Personality wise, however…

Vette has seen melting glaciers show more emotion.

A slight sting races up her arm once the antiseptic hits the open wound, and Vette flinches despite Quinn's prior words. Her violet eyes flicker to Quinn's face for only a moment, before she turns away.

The man looks up at her, his ice blue eyes unreadable. While his face stays almost politely impassive, Vette gets the strongest inkling that deep inside he is probably internally scolding her.

Fortunately the strict social etiquette that's probably been beaten in to him all his life is too far ingrained for Quinn to uncharacteristically explode in anger, or any other type of demonstrative expression really, at her. He must surely be close to losing patience with Vette's stubbornness and her inability to actually heed instructions.

She's surprised he hasn't lost his decorum with her hardheaded tenacity, and wonders why he even continues trying to get her to listen.

As if he isn't aware that the only person Vette shows any semblance of loyalty or respect to is his Sith Lord, Esiri Vae.

_Speaking of the devil, where _is _Vae? _Vette thinks, trying to tune out the smells and noises of the medicine Quinn smoothly begins applying to her various wounds and bruises. She never does like getting into a middle of a large fight between Republic and Imperial soldiers, but seeing as she has been traveling with the Pureblood Sith for quite some time now, injuries and death defying moments are becoming far too normal for her liking.

Both she and the Pureblood had returned to the ship, each tallying their own orchestra of injuries from the onslaught that had been Tatooine. The mission had been impressively brutal, and even Vae- despite her usual efficiency and her _un_usual habits of not killing when it isn't absolutely necessary – had her fair share of bumps and bruises to attest to their difficult experience.

Though, now that Vette has a moment to think about it, during their return to the ship Vae had been uncharacteristically distant and formal with her during the trek back to the station, and the shuttle ride as well. Unsettling formal; going as far as to silence Vette's inquisitive questions of concern for the Pureblood's welfare with a steady look from her intense orange-gold gaze.

Vette, having grown so accustomed to many of Vae's behaviors and tell-tale signs that she could usually ignore many of Vae's words and know she was okay, had no choice but to swallow the rest of what she'd been intent on saying. The look in Vae's eyes had not been threatening- in fact, Vette cannot remember if Vae had _ever _actually intentionally frightened her, besides their first meeting when Vette assumed the worst. But the intent in them was so stifling and almost searing, that Vette had shifted uncomfortably and turned her gaze to the shuttle window, not being determined enough to meet Vae's eyes with her own.

Vette _knows _something is up with Vae, from how the Pureblood has acted. And, for an outsider viewing on the pair, seeing a Sith sitting frigidly next to a Twi'lek is not something strange or unusual in and of itself.

But for Vette- who has gotten to know the Sith well beyond her initial reservations and disdain for everything she stands for –can honestly call Vae a friend, and has gotten well-adjusted to the quiet, unnamed bond that has been growing between them lately.

Well- Vette considers her a friend without having to actually tell anyone or claim it in any way. As much as Vette likes to think Vae has some fondness for her company, she knows others would not take lightly for the alien considering herself any kind of equal with a Pureblood.

But _now-_

Vette lets out a hiss, and her thoughts scatter, as Quinn indelicately slaps on a patch of gel, before wrapping it in a small bandage that he states she is to keep on for at least three hours to help her wound heal without leaving any scars.

Vette just glares at him.

"Ya know, as a part time Healer, your bedside manners are severely lacking." She promptly tells him.

Quinn lifts a dark eyebrow, conveying all the contempt he holds for her in that one movement, before moving away from the bio-bed to clean up all of the supplies he'd used.

He remains silent in his work, and Vette slightly slumps down on the bed, a pout tugging at her lips. She knows he only puts up with her because Vae has made it abundantly clear that there is to be no altercations between any of her crewmates without her authorization first.

With a shake of her head that makes her lekku swing behind her, Vette hops down from the bio-bed and makes her way to the door.

"Thanks," she calls over her shoulder. Quinn ignores her. As the door swishes open and she steps into the slightly cooler corridor, Vette adds under her breath, "For _nothing._"

The door closes behind her, and Vette is left blessedly alone. Rolling her aching shoulders, she makes her way down the corridor, wandering if she is actually hungry enough to stop and eat before going to a shower and assaulting it.

Her mind isn't quite made up for certain when she passes by the small counsel room, where Vae would sometimes use the console to let the others know when she wished for them to gather together for a briefing.

Peering in through the threshold, Vette makes out Vae's long, slender form slightly hunched over the briefing desk, both her hands planted on the hard surface to keep her frame upright. The Sith has apparently taken off her traveling robes and armor from their mission, currently wearing only black pants, black knee-high boots and an off-white blouse, with the sleeves rolled up to bunch at her elbows.

Even her long, inky black hair has been pulled from its pinup, spilling down the Pureblood's lean back in a messy tumble of thick curls and waves.

The vibrant, rich red skin of her forearms are almost sacrilegiously blotched and darkened by bruises. A makeshift bandage is wrapped around her left wrist, where a severe blaster bolt had caught her; it is slightly rumpled and awkward enough for Vette to gather Vae has treated herself rather than see Quinn for better treatment.

That thought alone that makes Vette's heart twinge, and before she is aware of it her feet are making its way into the room and towards the Sith.

Vae doesn't look up from her steady gaze on the table's surface, even as Vette's loud footsteps have surely reached her ears. For a moment the two women stand silently in the room, and Vette shifts her weight, not sure why she suddenly feels like the air is growing hotter and thicker.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity unto itself, Vae pushes off the desk and stands to her full height. Even in her slightly less formal wear, the Pureblood's presence is dominating and powerful, and she appears to command respect even as Vette sees that her waist is empty of her lightsabre hilts.

For some unknown reason to Vette, Vae has never taken to wearing her weapons on her ship, despite knowing that not all of the crewmembers get along so well with one another.

Vae regards Vette quietly, making no move to speak first.

Vette clears her throat, wishing she wasn't feeling quite so awkward all of a sudden. She's never had problems striking up conversations- and maintaining them –around the Sith before.

There should be absolutely no reason for her to start now.

"… So. What a day, huh?" Vette says with a nervous chuckle, bringing her hands together to wring the fingers in between one another. It is a nervous habit she's has since she was a child, and unfortunately she has never grown out of it.

Vae tilts her head slightly, her face giving away nothing. A chill runs up Vette's spine, but she ignores it.

"Are you… um, okay? From earlier, I mean." Vette waves a hand in the direction of Vae's arms, and the Pureblood takes a look at the bruises as if she is first discovering them. "They look painful.," she adds.

Then she winces as she internally scolds herself for saying something stupid.

_They look painful? _She thinks. _Of course they are, you stupid girl._

Trust her to babble off the most obvious. Vae meets her eyes, and slowly, some semblance of emotion comes back to her face, softening the sharp edges and bringing warmth back to her eyes.

Vette lets out a breath she did not even realize she was holding.

"My injuries are of no consequence," Vae says simply with a one-armed shrug. Her voice is low, rich and slightly husky, and no matter how much Vette can listen to her talk, it never ceases to make Vette feel… _well._

Some thoughts are best left alone.

And it is as Vette's eyes move from anxiety that she catches just the barest hint of a bruise tainting the skin at Vae's neck, barely peeking over the collar of the Pureblood's blouse. The bruise is garish enough to make Vette's stomach turn, and just for a moment, corrosive anger overtakes her on the Pureblood's behalf.

Vae's eyes narrow, and the Twi'lek loses her anger, watching the Sith take in the bandages and bruises on her own form. The Pureblood's lips close tight, and even from the distance between them Vette sees her jaws clenching. Vette also notices Vae's hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, almost as if in reflex. Being the subject of such an unwavering stare is unsettling as it is flattering, and Vette feels her skin growing hot despite her efforts to remain unaffected.

"Your injuries are taken care of," Vae says, her voice making it bluntly known she is stating, not asking. As if Vette should know it is not an option that she have her injuries treated after a mission.

Vette nods.

"Yeah, Mr. Military did a thorough job, and he was quick too," Vette pauses, wandering if she is going too far with her next words. "He's free now… if you want to have him check you over, I mean."

Vae shakes her head.

"I'm fine," she says. And then her next words make Vette freeze. "Thanks to you, of course."

Vette blinks.

"Huh?"

"You saved me," Vae says, and though her voice doesn't harbor any ill will, her face has become stormy with some unnamed emotion. And Vette is suddenly thinking back to how the pair of them had been swarmed upon by a multitude of Republic soldiers, and while Vae's blades had been swirls of swipes and parries, she'd had her back uncovered.

A soldier had tried to move it with a shot, but Vette had managed to jump in the way at the last moment, the bolt slamming into her arm and forcing her to collide with Vae's back. When the Sith had turned and saw what had happened, it only took- literally –three seconds for her to finish off the soldier who's done it.

"Um… you're welcome?" Vette hedges, unsure of how to properly respond. Why does Vae sound so surprised? As if Vae hasn't, at one time or another, saved Vette's life as well. "We're partners, right? I'm supposed to put my life on the line for you. That's how it works,"

The last part Vette says with a grin, trying to lift the mood.

It does the exact opposite.

Moving so fast that when Vette blinks she is suddenly aware only of the fact that the Sith has _moved, _Vette is being pressed back against the counsel desk. The edge of the desk presses into her thighs, and Vae steps in closer until the Twi'lek has to partially bend backwards, planting her hands on the desk to help with balance, in order to keep some personal space between them.

The look in Vae's eyes make Vette's knees weak, and she suddenly finds her throat impossibly dry.

"That is _not _how it works," Vae says softly, the firm steel in her voice making it certain Vette is not to argue. She looms even closer, until their faces are mere inches away and the air is warm between them as their breaths mingle together. "We work as a team, yes. Throwing ourselves into situations that can get us killed? No."

For one insane moment, impulsiveness overtakes Vette before her caution can.

"Don't be a hypocrite," she snaps, and Vae starts in surprise at the sudden venom in the Twi'lek's voice. "You throw yourself into dangerous situations all the time, and if I had a credit for every time you've place yourself in harm's way for me I'd have enough to disappear from the Empire for good. So don't you _dare _tell me I can't do the same! Even if you are a Sith, you can't be so self-righteous as to think I can't try and help you-"

Vette's rant is violently interrupted when Vae reaches out and clamps both hands on her shoulders, pulling the Twi'lek forward. For one impossible moment that stretches into forever, Vette thinks, _Is she going to _kiss _me? _And has no time to process if the thought terrifies her- or does something else- even as she licks her own lips on impulse.

But it is all for not because at the last moment, Vae tilts her head down so that their foreheads press together instead, keeping their mouths safely separated. The Sith's skin is impossibly warm and soft, and her nose bump's Vette's so awkwardly that despite her reservations of this sudden display of intimacy, Vette cannot help it when her lips twitch in a grin.

But then the humor disappears and the heaviness of the moment comes back, making Vette feel twitchy and far too warm in her own skin. Her heart thuds heavily in her chest, and she wonders if she feels lightheaded because she cannot get enough air through to her lungs.

Feeling daring, Vette lifts one shaking hand and slowly lets it fall to the back of Vae's neck, feeling the silky black tresses of her hair tickling her fingers. Without warning, a warm surge of protectiveness and _passion_ so strong and impulsive overwhelms the Twi'lek, and her hand squeezes impossibly tight on Vae's neck, wishing to convey to the Sith that Vette is _here _and that she isn't going anywhere.

A breathy moan slips from Vae's throat, and her hands slip from Vette's shoulders down to her waist, where they slip to her back to fully wrap around the Twi'lek's slim form. Vette lets out a surprised squeak when Vae pulls her body flush against her own, and she feels the Pureblood lower her head until she can turn her face and place it between the crook of Vette's jawline and collar bone.

The fluttering of Vae's long lashes against the skin of her neck feels like a butterfly's kiss, and a sigh of content escapes Vette. As much as the moment is far too intimate and uncharacteristic of Vae, it feels so _right _and the Twi'lek isn't sure if she wants it to end.

Time is suspended as the two women stand in such a tight embrace, and then slowly Vae pulls away.

Vette opens her moth to say something, but stops when Vae does something else entirely uncharacteristic.

She reaches out to cup Vette's jaw in her hand, her thumb stroking along Vette's chin. When Vette raises her brow in question, Vae shakes her head.

She lets her hand drop.

"You should get something to eat and find rest. Baras will be contacting us soon," Vae says, her voice back to its usual calm and collected timbre.

"I…" Vette stops herself. She tries again. "I will do that," she says instead.

Vae nods, before turning and briskly walking out of the room as if nothing has happened.

And if it isn't for the way Vette's skin still feels too warm, her heart still pounds so heavily, and her chin tingles pleasantly from the gentle touch, she could convince herself as much.

But she cannot do so.

Instead, she smiles to herself and leaves to search out some much needed food, replaying the feel of Vae's body so close and warm against her own.

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**END.**

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**NOTE: **So... ? Maybe it's just me, but I _love _the chemistry between my SW and Vette. And while Vette just seems like a character with a flirty voice, the multitude of scenes I've had with my SW and her only make me want SGRAs in the game so they can really get close. ;P

I'm really keeping my fingers crossed, here.


	7. Worst Day Ever

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note: **I was very excited to finally have a prompt to create a scene for my JK and Scourge!

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_**:Worst Day Ever: **_

_(Featuring Eleya Shevani-Miraluka- and Scourge)_

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"What would possess you to actually think this was a _good idea_?" Scourge's tone is as hard as stone, his garnet gaze focused on the Miraluka's back. Leya keeps her lips press tightly together as she maintains her focus on the objective, standing at the opposite wall across from the Pureblood.

Arms outstretched above her, and all her weight pressed on her tiptoes as she tries to keep her reach high enough, Leya heroically ignores her companion in favor of trying to get them _out _of here.

Her long, slender fingers are usually sure and swift when it comes to rewiring, but they are now currently slick with sludge and Force knows what else from their underworld scavenging.

It's only making their attempts to move further along the sewer lines that much more difficult.

And Scourge's tirade is not helping her move any faster. Really.

"We have Imperials on our trail, _and _you somehow managed to _lose your lightsabre,_" Scourge continues, shaking his head. His face tendrils twitch in agitation.

With a small huff, Leya gets the last wire in place and a small _beep _comes from the panel. A moment later, the door leading to the next sewer line opens with a _swish._

Wiping her hands on her already dirt and slime matted robes, Leya frowns. She turns to regard her companion through her Force Sight, and if she looks a little ruffled, it is more a credit to their situation then.

"I did _not _lose my lightsabre," she insists, her voice a little stiff as she tries to reign in her frustration. As much as she appreciates Scourge's company and his change of heart from the Empire to the Republic, he still has a _long _way to go. "It's just been… temporarily misplaced," the Jedi Knight finishes.

Scourge snorts.

"Sometimes I wonder why I had a vision of _you _defeating the Emperor, of all people." The words leave his mouth before he can stop it, but as he watches the Miraluka, he sees she doesn't outwardly react to the near spite in his voice.

She merely straightens her robes a bit, as if it isn't already completely beyond the state of _hopeless, _and presses on through the doorway with determination in her stride.

"Maybe your vision was wrong," she says over her shoulder nonchalantly after a moment. "It's been known to happen."

Her voice is soft; unreadable. That damn Jedi calm she always manages to retain in even the direst of circumstances seem to serve her well even now, and it makes Scourge want to smash something. It bothers him, more than he likes to admit, whenever she seems to close off and he can't get a read on her.

Scourge moves to walk next to her, his eyes darting up and down the dark, musky corridor in sign of any other life. Anything to help him take his mind off of his internal debate.

"My vision _isn't _wrong." Scourge starts on the defensive. Though he towers over Leya by almost a full foot, despite her being tall herself, she doesn't cower under the venom in his voice. She merely hums under her breath, and Scourge is not sure if it is in agreement or disbelief. "And it is not the only vision I have had of you- unless you wish to claim _all _of them are wrong."

The last part he says in an effort to back up his first claim. But once the words leave him, he immediately wishes he hadn't. He has no intentions of relaying his other, more _recent _visions involving the Miraluka to anyone.

Not until he's deciphered what they mean, first, that is.

This time, Leya does come to a stop. The corner of her mouth lowers in a half-frown, and though Scourge knows she has no actual eyes pinned on him, he feels the weight of her gaze on him nonetheless.

"More visions?" she asks. "Involving the Emperor?"

Scourge shakes his head, and Leya takes a step closer before she seems to catch herself.

"Scourge, if you have seen anything that will help us defeat the Emperor, now is not the time to be reserved about your visions-" Leya begins, but Scourge hisses at her.

Her words cut short, and the Miraluka pauses, unsure for a moment of Scourge's reaction. He will not be the one to explain to her now, but the fact she seems only concerned that his visions of her involve the Emperor makes his skin itch and his blood hot.

He isn't sure why, though.

"No," he answers her shortly. "Some of the visions involve you and the Emperor's inevitable fall."

Leya nods slowly, and Scourge can almost see the wheels turning in her head. He knows her next question almost before she even asks it.

"And what of the other visions? What do they involve?"

"You," Scourge says, and the heat in his voice makes it clear he does not intend to elaborate.

Thankfully, Leya understands and she is not one to push her way into things that are not of an immediate concern. She simply nods.

"If you say so," she replies, and the open honesty in her voice brings Scourge up short.

"Wait… you're not going to try and get me to talk?" the Pureblood asks, curious. Leya shakes her head, and for the first time of that day, since they have found themselves outnumbered and on the run, a small smile finds its way to her lips.

"What would be the point?" she points out. "You'll just clam up. I trust you to tell me about the visions if they are important enough for me to know."

Scourge's tendrils twitch again.

"You… trust me?" He can't seem to wrap his mind around it.

Leya nods, and for the briefest moment reaches out to squeeze his arm in show of friendship. Even if said friendship it _is _tentative at best for now.

"I do," she assures him.

Their little moment is shattered only seconds later by a blaster bolt, shooting past Scourge and missing his face by a hair's breath.

Igniting his crimson sabre, Scourge deflects another bolt as he sees a group of Imperial soldiers gathering at the end of the corridor they had come from.

"Get behind me," he grits out, deflecting another incoming wave.

"I can handle-" Leya starts, but her words end in a half-squeak when Scourge reaches out with his free hand to clamp down on her forearm. Unceremoniously, he pulls her hard closer to him, and then steps in front of her, all the while not missing the barrage of bolts bearing down on them.

"I'm sure you_ can _handle yourself," Scourge grits out. "But that was _before _you lost your lightsabre."

"I _misplaced _it!" Leya insists behind him, sounding almost… indignant.

If only for a moment, despite their day being probably the worst they've had in quite a while, Scourge finds it within him to crack a small grin.

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**END.**

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**NOTE: **I cannot wait to find more excuses to write scenes between these two! :P


	8. Health

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note:** This was an older prompt, and it is **pure crack.**

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_**:Health: **_

_(Featuring Eleya Shevani-Miraluka- and Sgt. Rusk)_

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The loud sounds of blaster fire rings in the air, and Sgt. Rusk smiles as he hears the tell-tale _snap hiss_of a lightsabre being ignited behind him. He unloads more from his Big Blaster, his smile turning almost feral as a nearby Imperial lets out a loud squeal before being impaled by a golden-yellow lightsabre blade.

Now that the Jedi Knight- some Miraluka named Shevani that he'd met earlier that day on this forsaken planet -and he are on the case, these dirty Imperials are going to wish they stayed home today.

Rusk continues to blast away, and just as an Imp droid clambers up behind him for a close-range attack, the Jedi Knight leaps fluidly over the Republic soldier, her lightsabre flashing brightly while her face seems to glow with determination.

It's the closest thing to beautiful Rusk will admit to seeing.

In mere seconds the droid is reduced to rubble; and just in time because more Imperial soldiers swarm into the room.

"This could get messy," Rusk hears the Knight mutter next to him. When he glances over at her, he sees her hands are pressed together and her head bowed, as if in silent prayer. Maybe she is talking to the Force- or whatever it is the Jedi worship.

Rusk's musings are cut drastically short when he turns his gaze back to the charging Imperials. His eyes widen, and for the first time, in a long time, Sgt. Rusk _freezes._

"Uh... Master Jedi?" the soldier asks slowly, not even bothering to assist as a closing Imperial officer is cut down by the Jedi Knight.

"Yes, Sgt?" Shevani says grimly, narrowly dodging a blaster bolt and throwing her lightsabre out at them in retaliation.

Another squeal fills the air before the Miraluka holds out her hand and the sabre flies back into it obediently.

"Why are there red bars hovering over the Imperial soldiers?"

Where there had been nothing above the soldiers' heads, now floated dark red bars with numbers.

"Those are healthbars," Shevani explains patiently. "They help us figure out how much health our enemies have left. Here- watch."

With that said, the Knight surges forwards and takes off the arm of one of the soldiers with a smooth swing of her sabre. Above the man's head, in red letters spelling "Imperial Trooper", the red bar receeds somewhat, the numbers counting down.

"Once it goes all the way down, like _this-_" the Knight stabs the soldier, and he slumps to the ground, dead. Rusk watches the red bar fade to nothing.

"... then we know the enemy is defeated." Shevani finishes.

Rusk raises his eyebrows.

"Oh? Because them falling over dead isn't evidence enough?" He wonders aloud.

Shevani nods seriously.

"It's always good to be sure," she agrees sagely.

"Oh," Rusk says intelligently. He pauses for a second, blinking stupidly. "Where did the bars come from? They weren't there a moment ago."

"Oh! Well, they appeared when I went to _User Interphase_," Shevani tells him brightly.

"Er?"

"It's a Force technique," Shevani elaborates. Rusk notices that the Imp soldiers are all standing around, patiently waiting for their conversation to end.

"The Force can make healthbars appear?" He reiterates slowly. The Miraluka bows her head solemnly.

"The Force works in mysterious ways," she clarifies without actually clarifying anything.

"Yes," Rusk decides to agree before anything can get more confusing. "Yes it does."

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**END.**

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**NOTE: **... told ya it was crack. :P


	9. Communications Breakdown

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note:** This was an older prompt as well... and let's just say as I was writing it the characters and situation took a mind all of their own...

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_**:Communication Breakdown: **_

_(Featuring Dean Stryder, Smuggler-Epicanthix- with Risha and Corso)_

* * *

Risha is sauntering down the ship corridor and about to pass by the Captain's quarters when the sound of slightly muffled voices catch her attention.

Eyebrow quirking into one of an unspoken curiosity, the young woman turns her gaze to the closed door that blocks the entry to the Captain's room. Though the voices are indeed muffled, she can still somewhat make out who they belong to.

The only thing unsettling about it is the actual content she happens to stumble upon them discussing.

"… Cap'n. Please… you gotta go easy on me," the slightly drawled voice is none other than Corso's- the near unmarred devotion and obvious worship of all things Dean saturating his pleading tone.

Risha snorts to herself- with the way Corso moons over the Captain, it's only a wonder how half the galaxy hasn't already clued in yet to the definite- if currently unnamed –bond between the two men.

"You know you're wasting your breath right, Riggs?" Dean's infuriatingly calm voice responds. There is a heavy grunting sound, and then a _thud._

Risha's eyes widen when she hears a low groan being emitted from (most likely) Corso's throat, before a shuffling noise follows.

_This is _too _good, _Risha thinks, even as a part of her feels guilty for trespassing. She eyes up and down the corridor to see she's alone, before moving closer to the door and pressing her ear against it.

"Sooner you surrender, the sooner I can go easy on you." Dean's voice is almost always a calm tenor- but Risha can definitely pick up the thick smugness in his voice. "It's your choice, really."

"Not gonna happen," Corso responds, sounding slightly breathy. The shuffling noise is heard again, before the sound of heavy breathing.

"This… is… _ridiculous," _Corso grinds out, before definite moan escapes.

There is another heavy _thud._

"If this keeps up, I'm gonna be so sore." Corso mutters. "I won't even be useful on the field with me being all cramped up."

"Practice makes perfect. Here- stop squeezing so tight," Dean is advising and Risha's mouth falls open. "Loosen up, and change your position. See? At this angle, I can-"

"Ahhh!" Corso's gasp does something to Risha, and before she knows it her cheeks are flaring up.

_I knew the Captain had it in him, but sheesh… _Is all that runs through her mind as she straightens to her full height. Maybe she should leave the men to their privacy?

"No fair!" Corso say, sounding breathless after a few moments of silence. "I was unprepared for it. You're gonna be the death of me!"

"What can I say?" Dean drawls. "I love being on top."

At this, Risha shakes her head and bolts, wondering if she had been smart to stop and listen in the first place. How she will ever look at her Captain on his second in command again she doesn't know.

.

.

.

Inside Dean's quarters, the Epicanthix sits back leisurely in his chair, crossing his arms over his lean chest. His gold eyes watch the man sitting across from him, a flicker of victory lighting his gaze.

For his part, Corso rubs at his hand, sending a half-serious glare at his Captain. His arm aches and it'll be a miracle if he can use to it to hold a blaster properly for the next few days.

"I swear," he growls irritably. "One of these days, I am _so _going to beat you at arm wrestling. Even if it kills me!"

Dean just gives him a dirty grin.

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**END.**

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**NOTE: **Talk about miscommunications, huh? ;P

I wonder how Risha reacts to seeing her Captain and his Second the next day... Hmm.


	10. Affectons

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note:** This... was pure silly fun, honestly. Nothing more, nothing less.

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_**:Affections: **_

_(Featuring my Jedi Consular, Iyani Zarru; Zabrak- and Qyzen Fess)_

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The soft hum of the _Defender's _engines is soothing, even for Iyani; who prefers being on the ground to floating in space. But when duty calls, she is never one to turn away.

Rotating her arms and trying to get the kinks out of her stiff muscles, Iya stands smoothly to her feet. A soft _pop _fills the air as she rotates her left arm some more, and she winces.

_Reminder- no sitting for hours on end overlooking taxing paperwork, _she thinks with a grimace. Moving over to her bed, the Zabrak loosens her outer robes, letting the brown material slide off her shoulders and down her arms before tossing it onto the bed.

Next, she toes off her boots, leaving them in a somewhat messy heap- (_no one is here to see it but me,_ she tries to reassure herself) –and is in the process of loosening her tunic top, more than ready for a quick stroll into the shower.

But a heavy banging at the door of her quarters brings her up short. Hands still at the top of her tunic, which is partially undone and hanging loosely off of her creamy, brown shoulder, Iya stretches out her senses with the Force.

Once she realizes who is on the other side, she chuckles.

_One who never seems to sleep,_ she muses with some affection. Her hands fall to her sides, and she speaks loud enough for her visitor to hear, even through the door.

"Come in,"

With a _swish, _the door slides open to reveal a tall, red-skinned Trandoshan. His reptilian yellow eyes zero in on the Jedi, and a low, rumbling hiss emanates from deep within his throat.

Though it may sound threatening to one just coming into contact with the non-Human hunter, Iya has spent enough time around him to discern many of his sounds and body language.

"Qyzen, you're up late," Iya says by way of greeting, one of her brows lifting in question. She sweeps out an open hand in show of motioning him to come in further. With a bow of his head and another hiss, the Trandoshan obliges her.

But she notices that as he comes in, he carefully keeps both of his hands behind his back. He has something, and she cannot see what it is.

But the slight smell of iron and… something _else_ makes Iya's nose wrinkle ever so slightly.

_"Greet you in honor, Herald," _Qyzen hisses. _"Gift for you, from my affections. A show of appreciation to the Herald's kindness."_

Iya blinks slowly. Usually she is ready with a reply or words to settle discord- after all, it's one of the main… requirements for her position.

But now, she cannot find words at all.

Because Qyzen finally removes his arms from behind his back to hold them out to the uncertain Zabrak, and blood drips from the hunk of… meat in his claws.

Whatever the Trandoshan has killed, Iya has no hope of discerning, because it is just one bloody mass of flesh. Being carnivorous herself, the sight does not overly upset the Zabrak.

But Iya is dismayed to see that she is going to have to get on hands and knees to scrub out the blood that is continuously dripping onto the floor.

"Uh… t-thank you?" Iya says slowly, almost embarrassed at the way her voice catches on the end as Qyzen shoves the bloody mass towards her face.

It takes all of her Jedi training not to jerk back from his sudden, lightning fast reflexes. Qyzen holds it out, looking at her expectantly.

For a moment, no one says anything. And then Iya hesitantly holds out her own hands, and Qyzen eagerly places it in her grasp.

Blood seeps through her slender fingers, and Qyzen seems to _purr _with approval.

_"More gifts to follow, great Herald," _Qyzen assures her.

Iya tries to give him a reassuring smile, and is sure she fails miserably.

"O-okay…?" She is entirely confused, and has no idea how to properly respond to the Trandoshan's randomness. Before she can think of a proper reply, the Trandoshan leans over… and _licks her face._

Iyani freezes, completely caught off guard.

_"Until later, Herald." _Qyzen declares, and leaves the room briskly.

When the door slides close behind him, Iya continues to stand in the same spot, a look of pure bewilderment on her features. Her Master never told her that Trandoshans engaged in such… varied behaviors when trying to show their thanks and appreciation.

She glances again at the hunk of meat in her hand, and then to the blood on the floor.

_I hope Seetwo's devotion to me extends to cleaning up bloodies floors, _Iya thinks with a sigh.

* * *

**END.**

* * *

**NOTE: **I... was high on giggles when I wrote this. *shrugs*


	11. Bad Timing

**Star Wars: the Old Republic**

_SWtOR online prompts_

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**Author's Note:** Is it weird to say I am in love with Blizz?

* * *

_**:Bad Timing: **_

_(Featuring my Bounty Hunter, Kerrick- Human –with Mako and Blizz)_

* * *

The party is an absolute _drag, _and the only thing stopping Kerrick from taking his blaster from its holster and applying it to the inside of his mouth is the fact that he's getting paid to actually attend it.

Hard to spend his own credits if he's dead.

_Gods above, _who _have I pissed off to end up on Sith watching detail? _Kerrick gripes internally, standing near the bar at the back of the large gala room. Mostly Humans and a few Purebloods are intermingling on the floor, while a few non-Human species move around with service platters, or are showing the newly arriving guests to their seats.

"Doing alright over there, Big Guy?" the familiar voice speaks up behind the disgruntled bounty hunter. Relief overwhelming him at finally being around someone he can actually _tolerate, _Kerrick turns to regard the genius girl.

Mako's inky black hair has been pulled up for the occasion, and the dark blue formal dress she is wearing fits her slender form perfectly.

Kerrick tries to stifle a grin at the thought of Torian's inevitable objections of Mako coming to attend the gala to keep him company, dressed as she is.

"Good as I'll ever be," Kerrick says with a one-shoulder shrug. He lifts his hand to pull at the bowtie tied around his neck, and grimaces when the mini death-trap doesn't loosen an inch.

Whose idea was it that he wore this dreadful uniform anyway?

"Your attire is dashing," Mako says with a smile, coming closer to him. She lifts her hands and bats his away to loosen the bowtie herself. She does it effortlessly, while giving him an impish grin. "But you look like you've been dragged through the sewers on Hutta,"

Kerrick glares at her, and she just giggles.

"Don't even compare the two," he growls. "Hutta was _much _more pleasant this."

Mako looks around the room, before turning back to Kerrick. She nods, before pulling her hands away and turning her attention to the drinks and treats on the bar.

"That is true," she says. "But don't worry, boss," she adds softly. "We have a plan to spring you,"

Kerrick raises an eyebrow in suspicion.

"We?" he reiterates slowly. Mako looks up at him, and the smile she gives him is so downright mischievous and evil that is warms Kerrick to his toes.

He's proud that the girl, so much like a cherished sister he's never had, has learned some things from him.

"Me and Blizz. He was all too eager to… er, help get you out of this once I told him how miserable you get at formals."

"Help me? And how is the little guy gonna-"

Kerrick's words are cut off when a loud explosion rocks the room. Screams fill the air, and another explosion rocks the room. Dust falls from the ceiling, and smoke begins to fog the air.

Coughing, Kerrick reaches out and grips Mako's forearm, keeping her close to him.

"_This _was Blizz's _plan?" _Kerrick hisses, as people begin rushing past him to the exits. Mako hacks a cough and tries to wave the smoke away from her nose.

"Uh…well, we never managed to go over _details," _Mako says weakly, as Kerrick half-drags her with him to an exit.

Once they reach a corridor that's filling up with the guests, Kerrick peers back into the room to see Blizz dashing across the floor, a large blaster hoisted over his little shoulder.

When his yellow eyes peer at Kerrick from beneath his hood, the bounty hunter sees Blizz give him a wink. Then he's gone, disappearing into the smoke.

"That guy is low, dirty and so destructive…" Kerrick mutters, watching the patrons scrambling about to get the situation under control. "He really tried to _blow up _a room just to get me free of a _party?"_

He turns to Mako, just in time to see her nod.

"I _love _him," he declares after a moment.

Mako just grins.

* * *

**END.**

* * *

**NOTE: **Blizz FTW, baby!


End file.
